


laissez les bons temps rouler

by Singofsolace



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Smut, Love Confessions, Mardi Gras, New Orleans, Public Display of Affection, Romance, Zarie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:20:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22903096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singofsolace/pseuds/Singofsolace
Summary: Zelda Spellman and Mambo Marie LaFleur attend the Mardi Gras celebrations in New Orleans.This is pure romantic fluff, written as my Mardi Gras present to you all, as well as an early response to Mambo Marie March's first prompt: Rest and Relaxation.
Relationships: Marie LaFleur (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina)/Zelda Spellman, Marie LaFleur/Zelda Spellman, Zarie - Relationship, Zelda Spellman/Mambo Marie
Comments: 18
Kudos: 116
Collections: Mambo Marie March





	laissez les bons temps rouler

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Mardi Gras! I figured that we absolutely needed a fic for this holiday, since Mambo Marie is from New Orleans, and I would love to see her and Zelda go traveling together. Please, please, pretty please with Mardi Gras beads on top, leave a comment to let me know what you think of my gift to you <3

Zelda Spellman was not a fan of the heat. Nor, as it turned out, was her skin a fan of the oppressively strong New Orleans sun. She had spent the better half of the last two days almost completely bedridden, as she had managed to get the worst sunburn of her very long life within twenty-four hours of arriving in Louisiana. She had _told_ Mambo Marie that her fair complexion couldn’t withstand a full day of river-lounging and boat tours, no matter how romantic and relaxing it was, but Marie had simply smiled and offered to buy her a hat.

“ _Calmez-vous, ma ch_ _érie_. It will do you some good to get the sunshine vitamins _, n’est-ce pas_?”

It wasn’t until the next day, when Zelda’s skin was fire-engine red and hot to the touch that Marie admitted she should have listened. Though she hardly enjoyed being an invalid, Zelda _did_ enjoy having Marie’s nimble fingers rub aloe vera into every inch of her burnt skin, and would gladly burn herself all over again if it meant spending an entire day in bed with her love worshipping her skin.

On the third day, the burn had faded into a nice, even tan—just in time for them to join the final Mardi Gras activities. While Zelda was a bit wary of putting on the mask and gown that Marie had chosen for her, she really couldn’t deny the woman anything after her burn had prevented them from joining the Carnival celebrations earlier.

“Marie, is this _really_ a part of a Catholic tradition?” said Zelda, looking into the mirror as Marie donned her own mask.

“The mask is to allow you to release your inhibitions, _mon tr_ _ésor_ ,” said Marie, coming to stand behind her so that both of their images were reflected in the mirror. In one hand she held an array of colorful beads that shimmered in the light. “Tomorrow it will be _mercredi des Cendres_ —Ash Wednesday. A solemn day in the Catholic Church. It marks the beginning of Lent, when Jesus spent forty days fasting in the desert, resisting temptation.”

Marie bent to kiss her lover’s neck to mark the word “temptation” when Zelda’s entire body froze, as if she had been petrified.

“ _Ch_ _érie_?” said Marie, pausing with her lips a hair’s breadth away from Zelda’s pulse point.

There was a sudden roar in Zelda’s ears. She could feel the mark of the Devil’s Claw sear across her back. Even now, the Dark Lord held Zelda’s soul in a firm grip. He was reminding her who truly owned her, no matter where she strayed or to whom she prayed. She must never forget that her name was in his Book.

“Zelda, you are frightening me. What is it?” said Marie softly, prying the mask out of Zelda’s crushing grip.

“The Temptation of the Son of the False God,” said Zelda, her voice very far away. “The Dark Lord spent forty-six days trying to win his soul. Clearly, he was unsuccessful.”

Marie placed what was meant to be a soothing hand on Zelda’s back, but it landed directly on the Devil’s Claw. Zelda flinched violently away from her touch, as if Marie had taken a whip to her back instead of a gentle palm.

“ _Désolé._ Have I hurt you, Zelda? Is it the burn?” said Marie, immediately taking her hand away.

Zelda tried to even out her breathing. “No, no. You’ve done nothing, Marie. It’s just—sometimes I forget how different we are.”

Not wanting Marie to see the shame of being owned, body and soul, on her face, Zelda reached for the mask once more. Marie watched in concerned silence as Zelda stood from the vanity. “Shouldn’t we be getting to the parade?”

Marie made no move to leave. “Are you certain you still wish to—”

“You say this ‘Fat Tuesday’ is about releasing inhibitions. Celebrating life, yes?”

“Oui,” said Marie. “It is the feast before the fast.”

“I don’t think there is anything more Satanic than that. I can’t very well be excommunicated for a masquerade when the last time I wore a mask like this, it was for His… pleasure.”

With that, Zelda swept out of the hotel room, leaving Marie behind, still holding a handful of beads she had planned to drape over Zelda’s neck.

* * *

The celebration was unlike any Zelda had ever seen, and she had known her share of revelry. The jazz music made her heart swell, even as her body felt heavy with the weight of the extravagant gown.

“Throw me something, _monsieur_!” shouted Marie as each float went by. Zelda was astounded by all of the trinkets that were being thrown into the air. Marie had caught her fair share of them, and never failed to pass them to Zelda with a wink and a smile.

“Purple is for justice,” said Marie, holding up the special beads that had been thrown by the King of the Carnival and slipping them over Zelda’s head with great care. “Gold is for power, and green… is for faith.”

Zelda shivered beneath the intensity of Marie’s gaze.

“You do not have to wear the green, ma _ch_ _érie_. Justice and power are good enough, _n’est-ce pas_?”

It was awkward, being so close, with Marie trying to separate the green beads from the other colors after they’d already been placed around her neck. Eventually, Zelda gently removed Marie’s hands from their task and held them in her own.

“I’ve lost a lot of things in my life, Marie. I’ve lost my parents, I’ve lost my brother, I’ve lost my freedom—” Zelda’s voice hitched as she immediately pushed the thought of her ill-fated wedding out of her mind. “I’ve even lost my God. But the one thing I’ve never lost is my faith.”

Marie smiled. Despite the noise swelling all around them, it seemed that Zelda was the center of her universe; she was the only thing worthy of her attention. Zelda was bolstered by the woman’s clear adoration and respect.

“I have faith too, _ma ch_ _érie_. I have faith in you—faith in us,” said Marie, lifting Zelda’s mask so that she could see her eyes before repeating the motion with her own mask. “I would call you a goddess if I didn’t think both our jealous gods would punish us. But it would be worth it, I think, to die for you, my love.”

Marie kissed her, and the crowd cheered—whether it was for them, or for the festivities all around them, Zelda could not say. Her world narrowed to the soft press of their lips, and the gentle but firm press of the hands on her hips, pulling her closer.

“If you think I would let you die for me, you are mistaken,” said Zelda, hot tears pricking at her eyes for an unknown reason that felt suspiciously like a memory, or the lingering of a half-remembered nightmare.

The moment was broken when a particularly flamboyant man on a float threw a whole armful of gold doubloons at their feet.

_“L’amour!”_

Zelda looked up just in time to see a woman try to get her own treasure by flashing her ample chest at the man.

“I think it is time for some champagne and _gâteau des rois, ch_ _érie_ ,” laughed Marie as she pulled Zelda away from yet another woman who was flashing her breasts in entirely the wrong direction—or perhaps the right one—hoping to be gifted with doubloons.

“Are you afraid my eyes are wandering?” said Zelda, dodging a very drunk man who tried to offer her more beads, “because I assure you, my eyes are only for you—at least they will be, once we find a less crowded place.”

“I am not worried,” said Marie, pausing as they ducked down an alley to get away from the crowd. Once they were far enough away, Marie grabbed Zelda by the arms and turned her sharply so that her back was pressed into a brick wall. “I know your eyes will always come back to me.”

Marie’s mouth connected with Zelda’s in a possessive, demanding kiss. Zelda felt light-headed after only a few moments, meeting the enthusiasm with her own passionate response. When they finally broke apart, it was like coming up for air after a long dive beneath the water.

“If you keep kissing me like that, there is a great chance I will show my reverence for your holiday by disrobing right here in this alley.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” said Marie, leaving a wet trail of kisses down Zelda’s neck and across her collar bone.

“Perhaps I want to see how many beads I can collect,” said Zelda teasingly, making a show of beginning to untie the front-laced corset of her masquerade gown.

“Zelda Spellman, when I said you would be the death of me, I had hoped I would have more time,” groaned Marie, taking Zelda’s hands and pinning them to the brick wall above her head.

“You did say this holiday was the feast before the fast,” said Zelda huskily, arching her back so that her chest brushed against Marie’s. “So… _feast_.”

Marie was only too happy to uphold the tradition.


End file.
